Karma
by D-Savano
Summary: "Come on, Granger," Draco whined. She turned around to face him. He continued, "Don't leave me out here like a long lost destitute. Especially when Weasel's been going around town."
1. Yes or No?

This is for various competitions and challenges:

_Oh The Thinks You Can Think Competition;_ **Sam I am-**

_Hedley Song Challenge_; **321**-

_Star Challenge_; **Capella**-

_Star Light, Star Bright Challenge_-** Red Dwarf**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Wouldn't even be where I am if I did.

㈞6 Status: (✔️) INCOMPLETE ( ) COMPLETE

I apologise if they are a little out of character.

㈐0Karma㈐0

㈞5Yes or No?㈞5

Hermione was baffled. She was leaning on the fact that whatever she had just read was untrue. She had had a long day at the Department of Mysteries, as an Unspeakable and was exhausted. No, she just wasn't in a position to accept this crap.

Rita Skeeter had yet again written another article on something which was, most definitely, not her business.

* * *

**~Daily Prophet~**

_**Trouble in Paradise? **_by _Rita Skeeter_

_Ron Weasley of The Golden Trio, was spotted in The Leaky Cauldron, a pub in Diagon Alley, with another witch. Although, she was surprisingly NOT Hermione Granger. Sources have confirmed that Hermione Granger and Ron Weasely had been romantically involved together after the War. So then who could this mystery witch be? Witnesses claimed that she was Lavender Brown, an old friend of his, who attended Hogwarts with him. The two looked smitten with each other in the pub as they showed PDA alongside with an intense make out session later on. Continued on page 8._

Underneath this article, was a moving picture of two figures making out. It was dark, since this was taken in the night. It was also extremely blurry. One couldn't make out the two figures, and for all you knew, they could've been Seamus Finnigan and Hannah Abbott.

Hermione didn't believe any of this, or at least, didn't want to. She had been steady with Ron for three years now and all the time she was with him, he had treated her like gold. She simply could not decipher this, because yesterday, Ron had mentioned that he would be over at Dean Thomas' place for dinner.

Half of the time, Rita Skeeter made up her own stories and published them for publicity. What she sometimes referred to as "Witnesses", it was actually her, more than anyone else. Hermione had come home, to her little apartment to find this article on the front page, soon after she had picked it up.

She didn't want to jump to conclusions; she didn't want to go banging on Ron's door demanding for an explanation whilst upsetting his neighbours for the disturbance. She was a sensible woman, she would wait until she found the right time to do the needful.

The next day was Saturday. Hermione had woken up at around nine and stayed in bed for a few minutes with a blank mind, before getting up to go downstairs. She was still in pyjamas and her hair was in a messy knot as she stood at the kitchen counter, making herself a warm cup of coffee.

A few minutes later, she was found staring out side the window, sipping on her glass of hazelnut flavoured coffee. The grey skies outside looked beautiful to her as she could see the clouds swirl around and the leaves slowly being pushed along by the wind.

Although, in her mind, she was contemplating her relationship with Ron. While he _had_ treated her like gold and the perfect gentlemen, she had noticed in the past few weeks that something was changing in him, his demeanour and attitude. Yes, he was awfully polite to say anything, but that was just _it_. He was only polite to her and nothing else, not that he was cold or anything but he seldom gave her any warm gestures.

The only thing he'd do now and then would be a hug and maybe a peck on the cheek. Ron was known for talking, eating and generally a person who loved having fun whilst being a very affectionate boyfriend. With his over 6 feet height, lean body and muscular physique, Quidditch was the game for him along side fun outdoor activities. And now, when Hermione came to think of it, she noticed that there _was_ a change, and it was that he had grown extremely subtle the last few weeks, even though he possessed a fierce temper. This was not Ron. Subtle was just not the word for him. So after reading the words "Intense make out session" in the article, it didn't seem likely that Ron would do something like that. Not after his recent change in demeanour, for when Hermione tried to recall, the last time they had one was over a month ago.

He had barely gone out the last few weeks, other than Dean Thomas' dinner that he said he would have to go to, the day before yesterday. Apart from all that, Hermione would generally go over to his place, but even the frequency of those visits had dropped, considering all her work as an Unspeakable.

Her mind was made. She'd visit him after breakfast, to have a causal one on one, and maybe, she'd confess about what she read sometime around the conversation.

After a bath, Hermione was dressed in a loose fitting, short sleeved white shirt with a cardigan and an elegant skirt and sandals. Her hair was in a neat bun, and she had only applied mascara to her eye lashes. Her wand was by her side and there was a sling bag on her shoulder as she apparated outside Ron's house. She knocked a couple a of times.

She could hear faint foot steps coming towards the door and the sound of a lock being unlocked. She was greeted with a messy appearance; his red hair was all over the place and his face looked like he had just woken up, Hermione frowned at this since it was half past eleven. He was in baggy shorts and his shirt was crumpled.

"Hi," he said groggily, his eyes looking tired.

Hermione scanned his appearance again and smiled. "Merlin, you've either had an extremely a long night or someone's given you something to make you look like this."

He furrowed his brows. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She only shook her head, and walked inside the apartment. The place had a faint smell of alcohol, and Hermione senses being sharp, picked it up. Ron hardly ever drank. She was suspicious but she didn't say anything.

She settled herself on his couch and as soon she did, she noticed that Ron didn't even look _excited_ to see her, he didn't even hug her. He had hardly done anything, not even greeted her with a smile, his face being rather expressionless. His eyes had uncovered how exhausted and blown out he really was. Hermione had thought of giving him a quick kiss or at least a hug but thought against it when he greeted her without a smile. She thought that maybe he needed some space.

He sat down on the couch, opposite her with the coffee table in between them. His house was a 2 bedroom apartment, which was slightly bigger than Hermione's apartment but more comfy. The walls were white and was decorated with paintings and pictures of him and his friends and family. The floors were carpeted and the room was filled with endless memories.

"So what brings you here?" He asked, leaning in front.

She didn't know that every time she came over, she needed and explanation for it. Because she usually didn't. "Well, it's been some time and I've been wanting to see you."

_That good enough? She thought._

"Right," he muttered, glancing around the place. They sat quiet for a few minutes until Hermione went for it. "Ron, is something wrong?"

"What? No, of course not. Why should there be?" He answered with a question, finally looking at her in the eyes for the first time since she had arrived.

Hermione wanted to say, "Because you've been acting all quiet and weird lately, Ron. I'm worried. You hardly go out anymore, neither do you ever come over. I'm always coming over to meet you. Please tell me if something is wrong." But she didn't. In fact, she was aching to confide in him about the newspaper article.

"Just asking. Did you look at the Daily Prophet, yesterday?" She asked nervously.

"Nope, I've just been so busy, Mione," he said tiredly, running hand through the red hair that Hermione adored so much. But when he said her pet name, it sounded empty and hollow, like there wasn't love attached to it.

Hermione was going insane over thinking her relationship with Ron. Her brain was in over drive as her mind contemplated every little detail about Ron. She was now desperate to ask him about the article. It would seem as if her desperation increased by the minutes. She chewed her lip before showing him.

"Ron, I have to show you something," she said softly, removing the article from her sling bag. Ron shrugged.

She handed over the article to him. "How in the world do you explain _this_?"

His eyes first widened a little, but he recovered. He then scanned the article and furrowed his brow. He didn't know what to say as he glanced up at Hermione, her face blank, her eyes showing him that she expected an answer.

"Well?" She prompted. "It's bull shit right?"

Ron was one of the few people that she trusted. She had known him for over a decade now and he had never lied to her. Even if the world told her that he done something had, she wouldn't believe it until she saw it herself.

Ron was suddenly interested in playing with the hem of his shirt as he averted his eyes, refusing to look at Hermione. He swallowed and looked up at her. His voice trembling and shaky, almost terrified. Hermione had never heard his voice like this.

"I'm so sorry, Mione."

* * *

_If anyone is reading this, please, please review. I may sound desperate, but I am pretty desperate right now, haha. Reviews give me motivation so write more, so I greatly appreciate it._


	2. Ugly Truth

㈐0Karma㈐0

㈞5~Ugly Truth~㈞5

_"I'm so sorry, Mione."_

"What?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

No, Ron couldn't be at the pub with Lavender. Or could he? After all, she _really_ didn't know what he was doing that night. He only looked down and stayed quiet, as if he was really sorry.

This was unlike Ron because generally, knowing him, he wouldn't have stopped talking, he'd be telling her how sorry he was and how he'd do anything to fix this.

You could see he had remorse and regret eating him up, but he still didn't say anything.

At first, Hermione was slowly filling with anger, but just before she turned livid, her anger dissipated and was replaced with unimaginable sadness and disappointment. She felt rejected with the fact Ron had been unfaithful.

She looked outside the window; the day was beautiful and exquisite, with the sky being as blue as could be and the sun shining with immense amount of pride. The birds were flying, people were walking happily down the street, cars were moving, things were going normally and yet she felt as though this revelation had disrupted everything around her.

"Hermione, please say something," Ron muttered. He'd rather have her screaming and yelling at him than have her sit here, slowly being broken and removed, piece by piece. It hurt him to see this, to see her so quiet, too overcome with pain to talk.

"What do you want me to say, Ronald?" She asked coldly, "congratulations on hooking up with Brown?"

He sighed at this. No matter what he said would make her the way she was before. He knew that and strangely, he didn't have the urgency to beg her to take him back.

"Hermione, I should've told you earlier," he started off slowly.

She finally looked at him in the eye, her eyes filled with tears. He could clearly see the grief he had caused this girl in front of him.

"That Lavender and I, we've been seeing each other," he continued softly, "for the past month. I'm sorry. I just fell out of love and fell back into it, only, with someone else."

And then she finally knew from his last sentence. They weren't perfect or made for each other. They were just two souls caught up in the tragic comedy of life. They were what everyone else wanted them to be, expected them to be. People had just assumed that they were simply the best looking couple ever together.

_"War Hero and Heroine, what a perfect couple!"_

_"Ron and Hermione; they just fit in perfectly!"_

But no, this was the vision of the other people, even her at some point of time, but not the vision of destiny. And now, the reason for the way he was acting the past few weeks, was because he was completely out of it. Out of the teenage crush for her, and now he was growing and pursuing what really mattered to him.

She didn't take the last part that well. She crumbled on the spot. Before he could come closer to comfort her, she got up and pushed him back and said in a desperate voice, "Ronald stop, let me just get up on my own and leave. As an individual person, not as Harry Potter's best friend, or Ronald Weasely's girlfriend."

And with that, she walked outside his house and apparated home, leaving Ron feeling the worst he's ever been. She had hardly been there for half an hour.

* * *

_Not much in this, I know. I promise the next chapter is more exciting and worth looking forward too. I'm updating every Tuesday! Please review if you ever have the time :)_


	3. Shiro's Haven

~Karma~

**Shiro's Haven**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. No profit from this.

Her ardour for the weather had most definitely vanished, as she walked home. She didn't apparate because she thought that walking would let her go over things in her head. And even after the events of today, she was Hermione Granger, she was still going to be unconditionally devoted to her work, without any complaint. Things will resume the way they were and everything will go back to its place respectively.

After reaching her apartment, she planned back to go her Muggle habits with the use of an iPod and a little dock. Just after she set it up, she had wondered how Ron's reaction would be when he saw these two contraptions. Wincing a little, she bitterly reminded herself that he wouldn't be here to look at the devices, for some time at least.

"Small Bump" by Ed Sheeran was playing through the little speaker when Hermione was continuing her work for the Ministry. She was working on the Thought Chamber, dealing with the nature of thoughts, obviously.

After an hour, she figured that she should have lunch, as she hated working when she was hungry. Hermione got up and stacked her papers neatly to the side of her table, before leaving the house. She planned to eat at a little restaurant called "Shiro's Haven" and was making her way to the old building which was badly painted with the colour of Persian orange. The tiny building was placed at the corner of a street. It had little pots near the entrance with beautiful freesias growing out of it. The orange walls of the building were decorated with creepers.

She opened the small wooden door and entered. The place had the aroma of Lavender, as there were aroma scented candles lit. It was dimly lit with hanging lanterns, the corners of the restaurant being consumed with slight darkness. She slowly looked around the place and went to sit down at the table farthest from the entrance, all the way in the back. The restaurant was deserted, except for an old Japanese couple sitting a few tables away and a middle-aged gentleman who was reading a newspaper at a table near the entrance.

She held her head in her hands. Today morning was a bad and contaminated memory that she'd rather not think about. It was like a bitter taste on her tongue. A rough and unpleasant sensation on her skin. Yet, she did not cry. She had, but that was the first and last time that she ever would. She was ready to continue, to not look back or wallow in her sorrows, even if it meant that she wasn't a completely content person. It was like saying, "Yes, I love it," with a look of disapproval on the face. Half-hearted, yet, able.

It had left her devastated and momentarily mentally paralysed. But she couldn't, just couldn't devote her energy, time and tears to something as pathetic as Ron. It wasn't worth it, she thought wearily to herself. Her head was down, resting in her arms as her eyes searched for something to eat on the worn out menu.

"Welcome to Shiro's Haven. Can I please take your order?" An gruff voice asked her.

"In a minute, please," Hermione replied politely.

In her peripheral view, she could see the waiter take a step back and wait for her patiently. She heaved a sigh and scanned the menu for the second time, her head still bent low. After folding the menu, she muttered, "A chicken salad, please."

The waiter nodded, scribbled something on a piece of paper and walked away.

Hermione felt that her emotions were passing through her like wind through the leaves, because wind rustled and momentarily shook them. And the emotions were shaking her hard, leaving no place for coherent thought so she ended up with a fairly haphazard mind. She knew she could continue everyday normally, but with a lack of enthusiasm and spirit. But still, continuing life was an achievement, right?

Fifteen minutes later, the waiter came walking towards her, carrying a bottle of water and a plate of chicken salad. Hermione was looking out of the window, admiring the cycle of nature. There was a bird perched on a tree, and was dropping a twig from its beak to create a nest.

The waiter poured a glass of water and turned to set her meal in front of her. It was at this moment when Hermione chose to look down at her dish, but her eyes quickly fell on the waiters hand. They were extremely pale with a lot of red scars.

Her eyes followed the the trail of his hands, which led to his arms, finally ending at his face and into those empty silver eyes, which were all too familiar to her. Her mouth opened to say something, but closed shut when she saw the troubled look on his face.

No, she thought, it's not possible.

"Malfoy?" She whispered slowly.

He didn't answer.

His hair was disheveled and his high cheekbones were more defined. His eyes looked tired and there were dark, deep and sunken circles around his eyes. His was thin, the uniform hanging loosely around his tall frame. The way he stood showed how uncomfortable he was. He was definitely in a right state, as if he had been through a famine. But then again, he could've been through _anything, _Hermione thought, as she studied his face. His eyes traveled to hers for a second and then back to the floor.

"Anything else that you would like?" He asked in a quiet voice.

She couldn't believe it. Who was this guy and where was the real Malfoy? This definitely couldn't be the Malfoy she knew, the one who called her Mudblood. The one who undeniably gave her a hard time at Hogwarts, whenever possible. No, it couldn't be him serving her food and pouring water for her in glass.

"No thank you," she responded softly, before shifting her gaze elsewhere. He nodded and turned around to walk back into one of the dark corners where the light from the lamps couldn't reach him.

Hermione stared at her plate. This Saturday had been filled with 2 incomprehensible revelations. Both of which seemed to defy the laws of nature. She closed her eyes for a minute before she slowly started to eat her meal.

After struggling to finish the meal, she asked her waiter for the bill with a lot of uneasiness. He got her the bill and she could sense the anxiety that literally radiated off of him. She paid the amount and then handed him the bill with a small smile, but to her dismay, he only look more troubled.

Hermione looked down at her purse and wondered how unexpected events just _happened_. How destiny plans our fate and how the karmic ways of the Universe worked, that even magic could not bend or conquer. Sweet, bitter Karma.


	4. Happenstance

Karma

Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy couldn't believe his luck. This was his sixth day at work and he wasn't enjoying it one bit. He had been beaten up by his father and disowned by him along with it. His mother had stood against it of course, be Draco had warned her that if she made a ruckus about it, she would land herself in trouble.

His father had hated him for failing his task and for being weak. When he got into Azakaban, he was infuriated and when he finally managed to escape, he wasn't any better. He still had all the galleons and property of the Malfoy fortune but he still wasn't satisfied. One of the reasons was his son.

After Draco was verbally and physically abused, he got disowned. His father had made sure that he didn't have any money, clothes or a home. He also made sure that he didn't have any valueble possession that he could sell. So Draco Malfoy was done for. He had about three galleons to his name, and only the clothes that he had been wearing at the time.

Now, here he was, serving his enemy. Hermione Mudblood Granger. He never wanted to serve her, of course, but considering that this was his fifth job, he had shut up. He had been fired four times after either strangling the manager, screaming and protesting, or just refusing to do the job. But now, old Mr. Shiro was nice enough to give him this job and he wasn't going to get fired, or else, he wouldn't have enough money to eat three meals a day. Stealing or conjuring food was not a valid option.

He had been hunting for a place to stay, and ended up staying in one of the local dormitories with random people. He started sweeping the floors, and washing the windows for the place. In return, he got a couple of galleons and didn't have to pay to stay there. This was his first job, and since he had never worked before in his life, he ended up quitting.

Also, known as an Ex Death Eater didn't help matters at all. People had spat on him treated him with so much disgust, that at one point of time, Malfoy would've rather just jumped into a ditch and died.

After Granger paid the bill, she had once again summoned Malfoy again.

"Please tell me who owns this restaurant," she asked politely.

"Mr. Shiro. Shiro Tanaka," was the monotone reply.

"Right, thanks." She left a reasonable tip before making her way outside the restaurant.

Draco went into a corner near the kitchen, and sunk back into the little red chair. He sighed to himself, contemplating his life. He didn't think it would end up as messed as this. Serving Granger her food and water. Imagine what his family and Slytherin friends would say to this, he thought bitterly.

"Ah Draco," said a small asian woman suddenly coming from the opposite direction with a walking stick. Her greying hair was in a neat bun. She wore a beautiful and classic kimono, made out of red silk.

"Yes, Mrs. Tanaka?" He asked back, trying to be as polite as possible. She was after all, his boss's wife.

The woman slowly walked to him. "You knew that young girl, didn't you?"

"Yes, unfortunately." He looked irritated.

The lady gave him an unsatisfied glare. Draco could see that she didn't like his attitude towards that customer. Her presence was already annoying, and there was no need for her unending questions.

Hermione was still trying to process the fact that it was Draco Malfoy who was her waitress. She couldn't say she knew Shiro Tanaka, but she knew that he wasn't in his right mind to hire Draco Malfoy. Nope, it must've been the old age.

She quickly shook her head and sent a letter to her colleague about the project that she was finished with. She then went upstairs to take a nap, and relax, to let all tension that the events of today, flow out of her like liquid.

She woke up sometime in the night, just before dinner. She saw an owl waiting patiently for her near the window will in her kitchen. She walked up to it, which was hooting softly and gently removed the letter that it carried. She gave him an owl treat before opening the letter and reading it.

It read:

_Hi Mia,_

_I received your previous letter, which was accurately written about the project we were working on. I'm extremely pleased that we're done working with the thought chamber, after you figured out the specific spell and charm to activate the object. Apparently, the muggles call the phenomenon of this object which reads minds "Telepathy" which is akin to Legilimency. Help me here, I'm a little confused. What's the difference?_

_Anyhow, I am sitting here and writing this on my desk, trying to create a whimsical response to the second part of your letter. Yes, I think Mr. Daewood_ _was satisfied with what we've done, however, I refuse to believe he was happy with our last project. Remember how we delayed? Yes, I always manage to wince to myself bitterly, when I think of that ridiculous fiasco. I'm afraid that I'm going to have to end my letter here. Until then, farewell_!

**Christoph Kramaeik**

Hermione was smiling to herself as she quietly read the letter. She would answer him later on.

Her pet name was Mia and Christoph was her Unspeakable colleague. Mr. Daewood was the head of their department who was a man with slick black hair, and a black beard. He was tall and he carried himself with a lot of pride.

Christoph was merely a friend that she started working with a little over a year ago. He was eight months younger to her and a half-blood. The both of them enjoyed working together and his level of intelligence was respectable. He had a unique colour of hair, that is seen on the bark of a tree mixed with the respectable light colour of honey.

His eyes were piercing colour of amber, which were sharp and observed all the events that took place around him. His posture gave out self confidence and presence, rarely ever slumping. Overall, Hermione had respect for her colleague.

On a cloudy Monday morning, Hermione arrived at the department of mysteries, where she found a small lady behind a big black desk with the name of Florence Kerr. Kerr was a muggle born like Hermione, but had raven black hair in a ponytail and horn rimmed glasses. She was thin, petite and short, and walked extremely fast on her heels for her height. Her black eyes were used to seeing the paper work of the Ministry, since she was also the secretary for Mr. Daewood. She was well dressed, with a smart black skirt till her knees and long sleeved with shirt and a suit to match.

"Ah Mia," Florence said with a small smile," you're early today."

"Yes, better early than late. Has Christoph arrived yet?"

"No, but you can go right in to your office and wait. When he arrives, the both of you can meet Mr. Daewood,"

Hermione nodded and thanked her, before picking up her briefcase and walking into her little office. Her office had a mahogany table and papers neatly stacked to the side, with a quill and a bottle of black ink. She sat down behind it, and pulled out a book that she was reading, since she had finished her pending work.

About ten minutes later, she heard someone rapping on her door.

"Come in," she said.

"Mia, it's me, Christoph. Shall we see Mr. Daewood?" He asked, slowly coming into her office.

Hermione got up and straightened out her formal outfit and put her hair in a neat bun. She couldn't go in a haphazard state.

"Yes, let's talk to him now," Hermione said quietly, before following him outside of her office. They both slowly walked towards his office, both anxiously wondering whether what the result of their work would be.

After the old man greeted them, he sat them down and told them that they had done a fairly good job, as compared to their last attempt. Hermione was pleased with herself and Christoph was relieved to hear this. The both of them had then received a bonus, and now had a choice to move from the thought chamber to any other chamber that they pleased. He told them that today that they could sit together and do some light work, while trying to figure out what other chamber they would like to do a project for.

The two of them strolled out happily and went to Christoph's office since it was bigger. They then decided resume the paperwork that had given them.

"That went well. What chamber do you want to do next?" Hermione asked as she sat herself down opposite him.

"I don't know, maybe Time Chamber? We both have till Friday to decide, don't we?"

"Yes, but I wonder who I'll get if we chose different chambers," Hermione said thoughtfully. She looked at a portrait of the Great Wall of China above Christoph's head, where there were random people walking up and down. It was a Moving picture.

"Hmm, in a way I hope that doesn't happen. We actually work well,"

Her eyes fell down to her hands. "Yeah, we were lucky on this one."

The two of them decided to end their conversation and continue their respective work. They were filling up forms for people, and writing letters to various other people who worked in The Ministry and the people who were clients. They were half way through just before lunch and the two of them had yet again started chatting on the various chambers that they could choose from.

Christoph had suggested that they go out for lunch to a little restaurant that he liked, which was down the street. Hermione agreed, and then the two of them started out.

She was animatedly talking about the research she had done previously about Time chamber, where she had read about a man named Darian Elsvich. Christoph listened with a keen ear and agreed with her whenever she came up with her opinions.

Hermione was so involved in explaining Elsvich's theories, she didn't notice which restaurant Christoph had taken her into. It only struck her when she entered.

"Is this Mr. Tanaka's restaurant?" She asked slowly, observing the dim lanterns and picking up the aroma of lavender.

"Yes it is, I love the food here," he answered, leading her to a table in the corner. He pulled out a chair for her before he sat down himself. He saw her apprehensive expression.

"Anything wrong?" He asked.

Hermione looked to her right, where she saw an upset Malfoy trudge slowly towards her. His posture showed that he was in no mood to serve anyone and his mouth was set in a straight line.

"Oh no, not all," she said quietly to him.

_HEADS UP: KRAMAEIK WILL NOT BE ROMANTICALLY INVOLVED WITH HERMIONE. HE'S A CATALYST. I don't do Love Triangles. Thank you for the previous reviews, I would love it if you dropped a line as short as "Nice" or "Okay" or maybe even "I reviewed"?_


	5. Resentment

**Karma**

"So, what would you like to order? It's on me," he said warmly, offering the old, worn out menu card. Hermione stared at the menu. She decided to have a Japanese special, which was Soba and soup. She handed it back to him and he muttered something about ordering a sandwich.

Malfoy was silently standing, keeping a respectful distance. This was the second time he was supposed to be serving _her_. And his patience had run its course. He had wondered who the male was, distastefully landing at the conclusion that he was the pathetic boyfriend. Oh how life was being so awfully foul to him. He was fed up.

It was embarrassing, serving the Mudblood and her love interest. Utterly disgraceful. He bitterly thought about his non existent social status, given his situation.

There was a girl a few metres away from him. She was on a chair, cleaning the windows, with her back to him. Draco's solution.

"Oi, Dakiane!"

The girl turned around. She was an asian girl, with long black hair, olive skin and was miles shorter than Draco. She was causally dressed in a pair of jeans, a loose white shirt and some old worn out Army boots.

"Yes, Draco?" The girl asked impatiently. This guy had been calling her the whole day today.

Draco gestured towards Hermione and Christoph, in a way that they couldn't see him doing so. He mouthed, "Serve them!"

"Isn't that your job?" Dakiane asked, with a raised eyebrow.

He gave out a frustrated sigh. "I'll pay you."

She had a smug look on her face, as she practically jumped from the chair that she was standing on and marched up to Draco, snatching the pen and the little notebook from him.

"A very good afternoon to you! I'm Dakiane and I'll be serving you today!" She announced to the seated customers. Hermione looked around the place to see Malfoy stalk away. She knew he must've squirmed out of this, by replacing himself with this girl. The sly dog.

"What happened to the blond male?" She asked innocently.

"Gone to heal his wounded pride," Dakiane answered bluntly. Hermione smirked. She knew exactly what the girl was talking about. Christoph clearly looked confused.

"How old are you?" Christoph asked.

"I'm 15, sir. Can I take your order?"

"Right. Um, I'd like a Tuna Sandwich," Christoph said, he shifted his gaze to Hermione, as if asking her what she wanted.

"Yes, I'll have Soba," Hermione said to the girl, giving her a smile.

"Of course, anything else? Maybe to drink? Tea? Coffee? Chai?" The girl prompted, by ticking off all the options on her fingers.

"Ah yes, I'll have a chai," Christoph said, "Hermione?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Right. It'll only be fifteen minutes."

Dakiane walked off to the kitchen to submit her order, passing by a sulking Draco sitting on a chair, just outside the kitchen.

"Uncle Shiro is not going to be happy if he finds out that you're paying me to do your work." Dakiane said, sitting next to him after she had given in the order.

"Don't tell him." Was the short reply.

"I'm just saying, if anyone found out apart from the old cook," she paused, "whatcha got against that girl?" It was referring to Hermione. She unwrapped a piece of gum and shoved it in her mouth.

"Don't ask."

"Fine, keep sulking, Mr. Grump,"

Draco was mildly amused at her response. She had been forced to work here by her parents, for her uncle Shiro, who owned the place, against her will. He had been forced to work here, because of his lack of money and food. It was his eighth day of work and he hadn't been fired yet. It was a miracle.

One of his sources of food was this restaurant. The cook named Haru, was a dear old woman that offered him a meal after his shift. He made breakfast with bread and butter in the morning, in his two-room apartment, that was a living room with a bed and a toilet.

For dinner, he'd finish the loaf of bread that he had started in the morning. The way he lived was ridiculously pathetic compared to his previous house.

Even though he knew the staff for only a bit over a week, he knew that they at least made his poverty-stricken life a little easier, and he felt something that he hadn't before. It was gratefulness. He had to deal with the fact that he had hit rock bottom. So for every serving of food he got from Haru, and every favour done by Dakiane, he was grateful. Even her stupid jokes counted.

"Daki! Food's ready!" Haru called.

Dakiane bolted inside the kitchen and collected a tray with two dishes and a chai. She walked over to the table and set the plates down, alongside the chai. He watched her, as she cheerfully interacted with the customers and saw Hermione give her a grateful smile and Christoph thank her before she left.

After the duo finished their meal, Hermione had asked Christoph to carry on back to the Ministry. She had said she needed to talk someone at the restaurant. Unsurprisingly, he looked perplexed, but nevertheless agreed to wait for her at the Ministry.

"Malfoy." Draco heard his name said by a certain Gryffindor.

"Ah Granger, coming to mock me? Maybe pity me?" He asked. His voice was full of venom, as he watched her approach him. His eyes were molten, hard, and he looked like he was about to pounce on her. Dakiane quickly vanished to the kitchen.

She gave him a look of disgust. She was sick of his tone, his arrogance. Even when he was in a needy state, he'd still act like a cocky bastard, with his holier-than-thou attitude.

He only continued to stare at her with a vengeance. Granted, he was angry. Because he was scraping the ground, and she was flying high in the Ministry. She had parents and he was disowned. Now she was looking down at him. What a sickening sight, he thought.

"What do you want Granger?" He asked, taking a paragon of self-control to not blatantly start yelling at her, about his problems in life, such as being broke and how she was the cause of it, and try to act like he couldn't be bothered. He had to maintain an ego, even in his position.

"I'm curious, Malfoy," she started off, pulling up a chair to sit next to him. Malfoy saw this movement and had intentions to stand up and walk away.

"I've hated you, you've hated me more. But see, I wouldn't have cared what you did in your life but the fact that you're doing _this_, makes me wonder _what happened_." She was intrigued, and her tone was blatantly honest, almost like a mockery. Being the head of SPEW for Elves, made her stop short when she saw Malfoy serving people. She would always angrily think that Malfoys acted as if they had a right to control people and not serve. To be cruel and not kind. So when she saw him, it was like he was breaking a Malfoy rule by serving someone else. What an unfathomable fact.

Yes, she had to _know_ why he was breaking his family's heart by doing this lowly job. Maybe she'd use it against him, as a return gift for the hell he gave her in the past. She'd rub the fact that she had the last laugh, in his face. She'd make him pay. What goes around, comes around, she'd say.

But how? Was it in her nature? To ridicule people of their positions and to mock them of their lack of material possessions, such as money, respect and love? To kick them when they're at the lowest? Even Malfoy? Try as she would, she'd never accomplish the air of a bully, or the pleasure in someone's pain. That was not her. Even to Malfoy, she annoyingly added.

Her features softened and her voice had a touch of empathy. "Look Malfoy, I'm sorry. Whatever has happened, I don't know... But," she paused and saw his stiff figure, "I hope things go your way,"

"Go my way, eh Granger? Nothing has ever been my way. That was all in your demented and deluded brain." He said bitterly. There was suddenly a fire within him, which was lit by the unadulterated hatred he had for the world.

He was just so angry and frustrated at her, and when he looked at her with fury written on his face, it didn't make her angry, it made her sad. Sad to see how someone could posses so much of resentment in them.

_**A/N: I need to cut it off here, I'm sorry. It's one in the morning, and I just HAD to post this. It's been too long. Oh and, can you please leave a review if you're reading this? Yeah you! The one who's frowning at me :P . Maybe a, "Hi" or even, "K"? I'll shower you with lots of love.**_


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